One Blade

Yeah, I hear their big booming steps as they walk by and their big fat booming voices rhapsodizing of spring, "oh look, the grass is coming up, oh I love that bright spring green!" as they tramp around destroying everything in their clumsy paths!

How could they know the agony of the struggle, as I, small, with no great strength, push through mud and dirt, pulled by light of sustenance, of promised nourishment, pushing through solid unyielding ground, such painful miracle, pushing upward, blindly, not knowing where I will emerge, and then just a bit, a tiny bit of breakthrough, mere beginning of agonies of movement, only to hear their foolish booming voices saying how sweet I look, as they coo in utter ignorance over the hard birth of spring.